94 Diagon Alley

One step ahead of me. "

Gwen thinks her fiancé may be hinting at her reckless courtship.

"The problem is," she hurriedly dragged George to the small building, so as not to be laughed at by the guests, "I don't have a single Nat left now."

"We're going to fix this, my dear." George looked at the dust, cobwebs, and strange creatures nesting in the small building, "Don't worry, leave it all to me, I Pockets full of Galleons."

Gwen was not polite at all, "Then I want a nice big sofa and a balcony to drink tea - we need at least three or four bedrooms, if friends come over - "

"—I assure you, Dad taught me how to build a building." George tapped his forefinger on his temple, trying to remember Gwen's thoughts.

"Except the garden. I want to take care of my own little garden," Gwen said. "Do you need me to fetch some Burrow goblins?"

George shivered in disgust, "I don't have this plan for the time being."

"We both have to work, maybe hire a house-elf." Gwen began to worry, "Honey, we will be poor for a while."

George took Gwen in his arms, stroked her hair soothingly, gritted his teeth, and said, "Fred and I have at least thirty-four ideas about Voldemort."

Under the guidance of Arthur Weasley, George's building progress is extremely fast.

The day the Hogwarts Express left King's Cross in September of that year. Gwen and George move into their new home at 94 Diagon Alley.

"I'm wearing my best clothes." Gwen stood nervously outside the door, the dilapidated building now completely transformed. Unlike the crooked Burrow, Number 94 is a beautiful red brick house. The signboard on the first floor is burnt with golden Ollivander, and the second and third floors are oddly scattered, which contrasts with the joke shop next to it. "Even though I can always see it across the street, this house is amazing, George."

"Come in, charming lady." The tall Weasley blew her hair and accepted her compliment, reaching out to open the door for her.

"A large counter," Gwen exclaimed, "I can finally be a decent boss—without huddling behind a cramped desk."

"And some delightful little decorations." George clapped his hands, and a few reluctant Cornish elves pulled back the curtain.

Gwen burst out laughing as George Weasley hung his shop’s fake wand on the cabinet. These wand-shaped props changed from time to time, some were Muggle rubber ducks, some were holly trees with small red fruits, some were glowing silver-white stars.

"I've always admired your humor," Gwen exclaimed, "and very beautiful."

"Don't be surprised too early, good girl, come and see on the second floor." George pushed her upstairs.

"Are you kidding me!" Gwen stomped happily, "Did you move the living room and dining room of the Burrow into our house?"

"I love that you call this our home." George said proudly, holding out his chest, "but I just laid it out the way it is—I think we all agree that there's nothing like the Burrow. A more cosy living room, right?"

"Of course!" said Gwen. "You've got a big sofa for me! Dogs and Crookshanks can sleep here all afternoon!"

"Speaking of sleep, I think you should take a look at our bedroom." George's eyes rolled, and while Gwen was still immersed in joy, he coaxed her to take her there. bedroom.

"Delicate windows." Gwen walked excitedly around the room, "a dresser—Ginny would envy me—you thought of it all, George, no better than you A better boyfriend."

"Have you seen this bed, Gwen?" George quietly closed the door, walked to the bed and sat down, patted the position beside him to signal Gwen to come over.

"A large, soft bed, of course."

"This reminds me of a sudden appointment in the boys' bedroom in Gryffindor." George waved his wand, the curtains fell, and there were several candlesticks in the room that had been prepared. A warm light ignited. "What a wonderful time."

Gwen gradually realized that something was wrong, and she swallowed.

"Except for one thing, I've been brooding about it." George's wand didn't stop, and there was an old record player in the corner playing a languid song. "It's just that you're always one step faster than me."

"You know, as a Gryffindor, it's my habit to take the initiative." Gwen felt a little stiff in his back, and George's hand was wandering.

"Indeed, I can't blame you. So this time I decided to take the initiative." George rolled over and pressed down. The wand in his hand began to dance maliciously.

The ribbon on Gwen's beautiful new dress is slowly unwinding on its own.

"Ah! Magic!" said George, intoxicated and cheerful.

"Ah, magic..." Gwen gritted his teeth and said viciously.

"I love you, Miss Wand." George's soft voice came in his ear.

"I love you too, Mr. Mischief."

Now the storybook about them may be closed. On this parchment full of magical traces, the last words were written.

Mischiefneverends.

The mischief never ends.

【Be careful! ] Confessions of Astoria Greenglass

My name is Astoria Greengrass. When I was about seventeen, I learned a secret about myself. It was also on that day that I decided to make my own portrait.

To be honest, seeing myself in the frame is kind of weird. The girl in the portrait has curly blond hair, long eyelashes, and a pair of cute little dimples when she smiles.

After watching for a while, I came to the conclusion: I am such a lovable witch, especially compared to my sister.

As all wizards know, portraits that appear to be independent-minded are subject to daily magical input. So I got used to sitting in front of the portrait every day and talking to myself.

In my limited life, I have always been very curious about a question.

Does Draco Malfoy love me?

The answer is obvious, because most people know that Malfoy loves only himself. But as someone who has lived with him for nearly two decades, sometimes he still gives me a little fantasies. That's why I ask myself this question over and over again.

Everyone, please stop thinking. I'm not a witch entangled in ethereal love. I just have a little obsession with things I can't figure out, really, only a little bit.

We can start with the summer I was an adult.

It has been more than a year since the Second Wizarding War, and those pureblood families who are on the wrong team are gradually rising. Boring parties are the best proof.

My sister and I have very different views on the last war. In my opinion, Voldemort's mind is fundamentally rotten - I mean the distinction between pure blood wizards and non-pure blood wizards. But in Daphne's view, the Second Wizarding War was a humiliating defeat for a pure-blood wizard, simply because the defeated side had a stupid leader.

Sometimes I think Daphne's brain is similar to that of Mysterio, only the size of an almond. But I was extra tolerant to her, because my parents were too strict with my sister since I was a child.

That morning she shoved me into a dress with troll-like brute force. Honestly, I'm a skinny girl, but I doubt that the waist of that dress is for someone who doesn't have guts.

"Do we have to torture each other?" I couldn't help but say. "You've tried it three times, Daphne, I can't possibly put it on."

"Stop talking, hold your breath." She said grumpily, "Today's guests are all important. Rozier, Shacklebolt, Longbottom, Slughorn, and Yes—Malfoy!"

I must have gasped so hard that she managed to tie the dress.

"It's amazing." I paused for a while before I could speak, "The guests we entertained include both sides."

Daphne doesn't look any better than me. I don't want to mess with her, but I sit carefully next to her and do her hair. Because I am a gentle and considerate little sister.

"You don't need to be nervous, Duffy. You can pick the handsomest one in there."

She snorted again, clapped my hand away, and picked a suitable lipstick for me.

I know what to expect today. Mom and Dad have begun to urge Daphne, she must choose a good husband as soon as possible, of course, must be pure blood. The glory of Greengrass was laid upon a little girl.

There is no way for Daphne, because I'm obviously not the kid who can do the heavy lifting. I feel sorry for her, but I can't blame my parents. Because I was able to enjoy the comfortable life and the so-called "noble" status, which was earned by the sacrifices of generations of wizards in the family.

Look, what's so good about being a pure-blood wizard?

But Daphne really doesn't have to worry, because I have already thought of a candidate for her - Draco Malfoy.

There is no better person than him. The Malfoy family did not know what means they used to act as Dumbledore's inner responder under the nose of the Dark Lord, and now they have obtained the endorsement of the savior Potter. But within a year, Lucius Malfoy was running a brand new Ministry of Magic again. How ironic, as long as he's on the right side in the end, no one will remember the little blemishes from the past. They are still gorgeous